


No Doubt

by Anonymous



Series: The Only Thing That Matters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Episode: s03e12 Jus In Bello, Gen, Parent/Child Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, please heed warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: No information here so as to avoid triggering material-- please see author's note for summary.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: The Only Thing That Matters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217744
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: anonymous





	No Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: “Truth is,” Henriksen says, “your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place.”  
> Dean feels himself flinch hard enough to rattle the chains around his wrists.  
> Warnings: Please, please, please heed the tags. If the summary didn't tell you as much, this story is based on the premise that John sexually abused Dean. Feel free to ask if you would like more information.

“Truth is,” Henriksen says, “your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place.”

Dean feels himself flinch hard enough to rattle the chains around his wrists. He curses himself as Henriksen’s eyebrows raise slightly. 

_Shit_. Henriksen was just fishing. And Dean just gave him what he was looking for.

“Ooh, sore spot there, Dean? Tell me, how old were you when daddy started crawling into bed with you?”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean says tightly. Beside Dean, Sam is still enough Dean’s not even sure he’s breathing.

Henriksen continues as if Dean didn’t speak. “And how old were you when daddy started looking at little Sammy? Did you--”

“You keep saying this shit,” Dean says, “and I swear to God I will kill you.”

“Good luck with that. You won’t be pulling off a miraculous escape this time. And hoo boy are the shrinks going to have fun with you, son.”

Dean grits his teeth, determined not to give Henriksen any more ammunition. 

The agent keeps talking. Dean tunes him out in favor of trying to breathe.

Once Henriksen is out of sight, Sam pushes Dean’s head down between his knees. Dean waits for the questions but they don’t come. 

The silence is almost worse.

Henriksen says, “So. Turns out demons are real.”

Dean nods. He can tell Henriksen has questions, but for some strange reason he doesn’t really feel like engaging. 

He and Henriksen pack shotgun shells full of salt. Dean loses himself in the muscle memory of the actions. 

“I fucked up,” Henriksen says abruptly. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Dean jerks one shoulder in a shrug. 

“But I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

“You’re about to get killed by a horde of demons, and you’re worried about my dead father?”

“Call it professional curiosity.”

Dean snorts. “Why’s it matter to you?”

“Because maybe we’re not so different, you and I.”

“This ain’t _Heat_. We’re not going to commiserate over how similar our jobs are, or how similar we are. We’re going to fill these shotgun shells together. That’s the extent of this bonding session.”

Henriksen says, “My father always gave me a choice. He could hit me, or he could hit my brother. No matter what we did, that was always the choice. And I always took the hit.”

Dean’s hands are shaking badly enough to scatter salt across the table. 

“That’s why it matters to me, Dean. Because somehow I think you know exactly what it feels like to take the hit every time.”

“I never chose to take the hit,” Dean says. It’s as good as a confession. “But I would’ve.”

Henriksen nods a few times. “So what else is out there, besides demons?”

Dean runs with the subject change.

(A small, furtive part of Dean is glad when Henriksen dies.)

After Sam and Dean get far enough away from Monument to stop, they find a camping site and pull into an empty spot. They can’t risk a hotel, not with their faces splashed all over the news.

Dean gets out of the car and sits on the Impala’s hood. He looks at the stars rather than Sam.

Without saying a word, Sam pulls the emergency bottle of Jack out of the trunk and takes a long drink. He hands it to Dean, who follows suit. 

Dean can feel Sam trying to think of the best way to phrase his questions. 

“Spit it out, Sam.” 

Sam leans against the side of the Impala, a careful two feet of distance between him and Dean.

“Was Henriksen right? Did Dad…” Sam trails off. 

“Did Dad what, Sam? Did Dad _touch me in a bad place_? Is that what you’re asking?”

“I-- yeah.”

Dean takes another swallow of whiskey. “If I say yes, are you gonna flip?”

Sam’s voice is quiet. “Dean, I-- I’m not going to flip. I’m going to listen to whatever you want to say.”

“What I want to say,” Dean says, “is nothing. But somehow I don’t think that’s going to work for you.”

Sam holds his hand out for the bottle of Jack. Dean takes a long sip before handing it over.

Dean has his gaze firmly fixed on the stars when he forces himself to say what Sam needs to know.

“He never looked at you like that, Sammy. I made sure he didn’t.”

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam whispers. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“It’s what matters,” Dean says. He blinks the blurriness in his eyes away. “It’s the only thing that matters, Sam, you get that? Because if anything else matters, then it all matters, and I-- I can’t think like that, man. I just can’t. You understand?”

Sam’s voice is choked when he responds. “Okay. Okay, Dean.”

“Give me the booze back.” 

Sam hands it over. Dean doesn’t give it back for several minutes. 

By the time they get into the Impala to sleep, Sam and Dean are both pretty drunk. That’s the only reason Dean says, “He’d call me Mary, sometimes. If I was good.”

Sam makes a noise that Dean doesn’t know how to name. 

**Author's Note:**

> Considering content, it feels weird to say I hope you enjoyed this fic. So, uh. Thanks for reading?  
> I'm crucifixinhell on Tumblr if you want to read more of my work.


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